Running Scared
by Nilah
Summary: Tag on to Sin City


Running Scared

Tag to Sin City

Nilahreba

After leaving Bobby, Dean had made his way to the motel to pick up Sam, settle their bill and leave this fun town.

He was scared; scared for Sam, scared of his fate at the end of the year, scared of the situation he'd be leaving Sam in, having to face off with all those demons left. Hell, he was plain scared, just freakin' scared.

Of course, he wasn't going to admit that; especially not to Sam, and maybe not even to himself. He worked hard at banishing the doubts. Doubts that simmered just below the surface of his "let's live life to the fullest" demeanour.

The Sam he knew would not have killed that girl without a second thought to the human host. The Sam he knew would have agonized over that action before committing himself to it. The Sam he knew would have paused long enough for him to voice his own doubts.

The Sam he saw pulled that trigger without hesitation, without compassion, without mercy. Not like his Sam.

What if he had come back…wrong?

After all they had gone through, after all he had sacrificed, he couldn't bear to think that Sam had changed. He had promised Sam that he would save him, and he wanted to…, no, he needed to believe that he had.

If he hadn't, then he had failed. Once again. His hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel, his forehead bowing until it rested against the column, eyes tightly closed, feeling the despair wash over him, hearing the questions scream repeatedly in his head.

Why couldn't things go as planned just once?

Why couldn't they win just once?

Why was he such a screw up?

Sam had gone back to the hotel to pack up their gear, leaving Dean and Bobby to follow.

Meeting up with Ruby had been the last thing he had expected or wanted. He still hadn't figured out her motive for being so helpful.. Bobby had volunteered that she had supplied the solution to their Colt problem, and she had pointed him in their direction, hinting that they might be in need of some assistance. If he hadn't arrived when he did, things could have definitely gone south. As it was, the Colt had saved the day.

Sam could still remember the power that had coursed through him when he had pulled the trigger, killing both Casey and the father. When he had turned to Dean he wasn't sure what emotion he had seen ghosting across his features. Disappointment? Fear? Dean had called out to him just before he had shot Casey. When he had questioned him about it, he had just shrugged and not answered. Just shook his head and turned away. But not before Sam had seen a hint of sadness in his brother's expressive eyes. Anyone who knew Dean could read him well if they paid attention to his eyes. He knew his brother worked hard at keeping them shuttered, but lately Sam had noticed it becoming harder for him to maintain. Along with the sadness had been something that looked suspiciously like regret. But what the hell did Dean have to regret? That he had killed a demon trying to kill his big brother. Sam wasn't sure but one thing he knew for certain. They'd have to discuss it later. If he could pin his brother down long enough to have a conversation that didn't involve sex, females or Vegas. Maybe never then. Sam sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

Dean's deal had cost him a lot of sleepless nights and sore fingertips, and he didn't see an end in sight, at least not in the near future. Dumb jerk! Anytime Sam's mind ran on the terms of that deal, his resolve to not get angry with his brother faltered a little more.

If he trusted Ruby, he already had a way out for Dean. Thing was, he didn't trust Ruby. Heck, he didn't trust himself these days. He just felt so angry, so frustrated all the time. Why had they gone through the past two years for Dean to buy a one way ticket to hell? Not just die, but go to hell for all eternity. Just thinking about it had the fury rising within him. He was scared, frightened of the control he no longer seemed to have. Frightened that in a year's time, he wouldn't have his big brother at his side, to help him deal, to keep him from the dark, to save him.

Bobby remembered that voice. He heard the doubt and the hope in Dean's voice. He was always amazed at just how much one could throw at Dean, and he just kept going. "D'you think something's wrong with my brother?" He could just about see the little boy peeking out from behind the tough guy exterior. It was the scared, little boy voice. It wasn't one that he had heard often over the years, but when he did, it tore at his heart because it meant that Dean felt that he had reached his limit. It signalled that Dean felt he had nowhere else to go, no one to turn to. It would break free of him for a moment, but that moment seemed to be enough of a release to allow him to put his blocks back in place. It gave him the time to make his necessary repairs. In those days, he had been a little boy trying to handle adult problems. Over the years, during their infrequent visits, Bobby had seen Dean gain mastery over those blocks. They had, over time, become an almost impenetrable barrier wherein Dean locked away all his hurts, his fears and his dreams. Humour had been substituted as his tool of choice. His coping mechanism. And so, when Bobby heard that voice asking him if he thought something was wrong with his brother, he almost faltered. Instead he fell back to their standard fallback position of "demons lie."

He had watched these boys take all that was thrown at them and still bounce back. They still cared enough to carry on doing a thankless job. But now, Bobby wondered exactly how long they could continue along this path the universe had mapped out for them.


End file.
